First days of school

Here in Scotland, school starts in late August. As I write this on August 24, today marks the third day of school, and my first good, long cry about the start of big-kid school for my boy.

Day one was as expected: lots of nervousness and excitement for us (well, me) and Luke, and all the other kids and parents were in the same situation. It was the big first day for everyone. I snapped lots of pictures (see below) to commemorate the moment

But today, on this third day of school, without a camera in hand, hit me hard. I realized as soon as I walked back through the door after dropping off Luke, that while I had no photographic evidence of today's milestone, I must write about the experience of today, and put in words, as best I can, the emotional impact.

On the school memo, it was asked that parents encourage the children to begin the day in the school play yard. Beginning today, we were to drop off our children to this area, and they would line up and enter the school building once the bell rings to mark the start of the school day. I prepped Luke during breakfast that we would do this, and that I would stay with him as he needed. He seemed really fine about it, which surprised me somewhat, and began to talk to me about a game he and his P7 buddy had been playing in the play yard.

Fast forward to drop off: we go through the school hand-in-hand, and exit into the play yard. Luke seems somewhat nervous, so I chat with him about the plan: I will stay with him until he finds his buddy or it is time to line up. We stand awkwardly near the doors when a P5 girl comes over and asks his name and if she can help find his buddy. (I, of course, was immediately charmed by this girl and her kindness.) I chatted with her, since Luke suddenly became silent and shy, almost hiding behind my back as we talked. Because Luke does not remember his buddy's name and cannot describe what he looks like, we are no closer to finding him through the help of this nice little girl.

After a few minutes, some more P1 children and their mums arrive in the play yard. Eventually, Luke and I head off, still hand-in-hand, to look for his buddy. After arriving at the opening of the football pitch, we see the kind P5 girl again, who asks if we've had any luck. At that moment, a boy about 11 years old appears with a huge smile, saying "Hiya, Luke!" Luke brightens immediately, as I introduce myself to this confident boy (whose name is Callum, by the way). Before I know it, Luke extracts his hand from mine, and takes the one Callum has offered, and off to the football pitch they go, Luke holding Callum's hand and skipping to the farthest goal post.

I find it hard to describe the way I felt at that moment. It was a mix of so many complex emotions that I think I may not have the words to accurately frame the experience. In a moment, I felt both joy (at Luke's happiness and the choice of this nice young man as his buddy) and fear (of whether he will be safe on a pitch with quite bigger kids). I felt excitement for the fun Luke would have playing the game with big boys, and angst over whether he would feel nervous playing a game he doesn't understand. I was also thrilled that he was no longer clinging to me in fear, but I had another difficult-to-articulate thought that made me feel quite sad. It wasn't that I felt obsolete or superfluous, but I felt a pang of sadness that felt a little like loneliness. Here was the boy I had with me for these past five-and-a-half years, joyously skipping away from me, moving toward something different, something apart from me.

It seems I don't have the right to feel sad at this (but I'm learning not to judge my emotions, so I won't linger here too much...) since for so long, I have been looking forward to moving away from the baby stage and into childhood. It isn't that I want to wish time away, but I personally found the baby and toddler years hard (yes, I know all parenting is hard, but I really struggled quite a lot to hold it together in those years). I know these school-age years come with their own challenges and heartaches, but these are also the years I've anticipated for the interactions and relationships we can have. So how could I be sad when this is what I've been wanting? I don't know. I only know that emotions are complex things that I don't fully understand, and that sometimes the most meaningful and memorable moments we encounter are those that come with such an array of feelings that words couldn't possibly explain the depth of the experience.

Some photos from the first day of school

All ready to go and looking up to his Daddy

Playing in the big P1 room

Playing with K'NEX as parents leave the room

I kept snapping photos as I walked out, and was somewhat surprised that Luke didn't turn around and look for us. 

Update from the morning of August 31: We have had a week of school that has gone really well. It has been wonderful that Luke has started school with excitement. He seems to be enjoying his time at school, and most days, reports (at least a little) about what he has learned. He has told us he has at least two friends from his class. He has really enjoyed the lunches he gets to choose from the school cafeteria. Each morning's drop off looks similar to the one I described above, and the emotional intensity has lessened for me. I am now looking forward to next week, when Luke will stay for the whole day (9 a.m. until 3 p.m.), which coincides with Maggie's nursery schedule.

(And I will be sharing tidbits from Maggie's nursery experiences in a future blog post as well.)

Little legs and a big hill

Last weekend, we climbed a mountain!

Okay, that is not true. We did not climb a mountain. We climbed a hill. But as a city girl, born and raised, judging elevation is not my strong suit. If I had climbed to the top of this hill when I was a child, I certainly would have thought of myself as a mountain-climber. Judge for yourself.

We climbed this.

Photo taken during a walk in December 2014 - We had a much greener walk yesterday. 

Yes, the children climbed it too. It was a gloriously sunny afternoon in Scotland, and with Uncle Paul and Marian visiting, we decided to lace up the hiking boots and enjoy some time in the great outdoors.

When we were visiting Dumfries back in December, Chris and I climbed to Waterloo Monument on a particularly nice winter day. As we climbed, we encountered a family with children about the same age as ours. We were surprised to see such young kids climbing quite a wet and steep hill, and after passing them, we commented to each other that we didn't think our kids would have the endurance to do it. (I know, I know, we were imposing a self-fulfilling limitation, but at that time, we had reasons to believe that to be true.)

Uncle Paul, Maggie, and Marian at the start of our walk

Over the past several months, we've done a lot of walking in the forests and countryside of southwest Scotland. Luke and Maggie have walked nearly every step right alongside us. Maggie rode on my back for the last 15 minutes to the summit, but not at all bad for a nearly 3-hour excursion. They have built up their stamina to the point that their own little legs got them up to the very top of the monument. Photographic evidence below!

View from the top of the monument

It was a lovely day, and we had a good number of laughs on the way up and back down again. While I wouldn't call myself an outdoorsy kind of girl (why I need label myself at all is another blog post altogether!) it is worth nothing that I always feel amazingly wonderful after a long walk in the great outdoors. It does something to me (slows me down? helps me breathe? creates a calm?) that just feels great, even if I can't put my finger on exactly what it is.

A beautiful day and a gorgeous view

Tree stump hugging on the way back down the hill

Building routines in our new home

I know, I know, it's not much of a blog if there is no new content. Truth is, we've been so busy these last few months with travel, that I haven't carved out regular time to record our adventures. Instead of being upset at the absence of blog entries, as I likely would have been in the past, I am moving on with the intention of doing what I can going forward. That kind of attitude is enough for me these days. It makes me a happier, calmer, more easy-going person. (Have your met the new Nancy?!)

So life in Scotland.... if you're wondering what it is like, imagine your own life and then just imagine that you are doing all the same stuff, but in a different place. Am I making life here sounds dreamy and wonderful? Probably not, I realize, but the honest-to-goodness truth that I am beginning to understand is that life is life wherever one goes. There are dirty dishes and clothes to be washed, groceries to be purchased, meals to be cooked, budgets to be followed. To some this may sound dreary and mundane, but to me, it really isn't at all. These little tasks become the glue that holds our days together, and I am learning how to create routines out of them that serve our family well.

Chris and I have been married nearly seven years, and Luke has been on this planet for five-and-a-half of those years and Maggie for nearly four, so why is it now (now that we have moved across the world) that I am learning to create household routines that serve us, and appreciate the simplicity of daily habits? On reflection, I think it has to do with removing myself from what I had been doing in order to break old (bad) habits. Some might think that such a move would create upheaval and stress that would undermine creating structured routines; I have found the opposite to be true. In a new place, I have begun to establish fresh habits without the effort of determination simply because the new place triggers the habit automatically. (Shout out to Gretchen Rubin and her book Better Than Before, which highlights this principle so well.)

To me, one of the most exciting thing about returning back to Scotland from our lengthy visit to the States, has been to focus on building these routines. There is certainly time and space for FUN, and we do have lots of that (to be chronicled in future posts), but when the routines are the foundation of our days, I find my head is clear, my house is clean, and most importantly, my family is happy.

As a teaser, enjoy this photo of us "punting" on the River Cam in Cambridge during a recent visit with our lovely friends Hugh and Nicky and their lovely wee ones (and yes, I do plan to write about our trip in a future post).